The Price
by flacedice
Summary: There is always a price to pay. Spoilers chapter 204
1. Prologue

I didn't think you guys would want to miss out on the fun so here we go ;D

* * *

**The Price:**

**Prologue**

Watanuki sat on the veranda. The smoke from his pipe had long since thinned, now barely a trickle. The liquor and its accompanying two cups sat untouched on their tray. Watanuki didn't notice. His gaze was locked on the front gate.

Doumeki is late.

Trees. The blank sleek panels of glass of the skyscrapers that surrounded the lot that houses the shop. That was all he could see beyond the fence.

For all he can control the sight of their shared eye –

(more and more he has closed Doumeki off from the things he sees. Doumeki doesn't need to see all that he sees. Is better not seeing them)

- it still only goes one way. Doumeki can see what Watanuki sees. But Watanuki cannot see what Doumeki sees.

If there was a time where he wished it was so, that time is now.

Doumeki is late. More than late.

Late enough for Watanuki to send out a butterfly to guide him back.

While he wouldn't put it past the idiot to get lost-

(He never had but there was always a first time for everything. Especially for someone as mentally challenged as Doumeki)

-his unending appetite is usually enough to drag him back to Watanuki in time for a meal.

Dinner was six hours ago. Now night has fallen into the shadow upon shadow of the hours after midnight. Cold and dark.

The butterfly he sent out hasn't returned.

His fingers have chilled. Cold through and stiff. But Watanuki hasn't moved. Hasn't called Moro and Maru for a coat. He stays were he sits, eyes fixed on the empty space between the fence posts.

Mokona sits next to him. Unnaturally silent, eyes on Watanuki.

A faint glow appears beyond the gate. A stuttering flicker of light that barely encompasses the darkness at its centre.

Wings. Tattered and barely functional.

Watanuki is standing without remembering getting up. Eyes fixed on the guttering light.

The butterfly struggles to the gate.

Struggles and fails.

It dissolves. Wings shattering in a thousand pieces that shrivel and combust. When the dying embers extinguish only a faint haze of smoke, broken and fraying, remains.

The chill has entered his blood. His chest feels half frozen and his breath is too-warm on his lips.

Doumeki isn't coming.

~x~X~x~

No, he isn't.

Next piece up in a few days.

~x~X~x~


	2. Chapter One

**ANONYMOUS REVIEWS:**

**letmeupme:** XD  
Of course XD I've got to have some fun :D  
This story is full of them. Best to get it out of your system now XD Of course (makes it fun, right?). But they'll narrow down a bit now ;) A bit XD

**Catalina:** You're welcome, my dear. Apparently not or I wouldn't have left you alone for so long :) It makes me happy to see you so excited :D And proud that you enjoy my work so much. Though this is hardly the first new story I've written in the past six months. I've left bread trails to many more ;D

**Leoanda Taylor:** *amused* Not what you expected? Don't worry you'll see what happened to him soon enough ;D

**James Birdsong:** Thank you :D I'm glad you liked it :D

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AN: I probably should have mentioned this before - there are spoilers in this story for Chapter 204 of xXxholic. No OAD spoilers are included (I wouldn't be _that_ mean XD). If you haven't read the latest chapters (why not? XD) some of this might be confusing.

**The Price:**

**I**

He's going to be late.

The thought slides into his mind absently but Doumeki doesn't bother picking up his pace. Watanuki has all the time in the world and he's not about to start cooking dinner before Doumeki brings his groceries.

The plastic bags are a familiar weight in his hands. Before he never did grocery shopping. Or never what Watanuki calls grocery shopping.

_Who would not wish their food to be of high quality?_

Watanuki complained the first time Doumeki had brought him groceries. Loudly.

Doumeki had practise at ignoring Watanuki's rants. Ignoring his screams and flailing. But the snap and disapproval had been difficult to dismiss that time.

Watanuki couldn't leave the shop. Aside from customers, only Himawari, Doumeki and Kohane could enter the shop. But Himawari had promised to only enter the shop once a year and Kohane couldn't be expected to run errands for Watanuki every few days.

So it had fallen to him.

Doumeki found he didn't mind. As Watanuki irritably pointed out, he'd be eating half of it anyway.

So Doumeki had learned how to pick through fresh produce to find the better quality daikon and edamame, where to go for the best price (not that Watanuki seemed to have a problem producing money), what tofu and tsukemono Watanuki preferred. It had gotten to the point that he didn't need lists anymore. He just knew that Watanuki would need more eggs or miso.

The old woman at the fresh produce shop had taken to smiling over his purchases knowingly. She had commented that he must be good at cooking with the way he picked his produce. Doumeki had truthfully, unthinkingly, denied it. Compared to Watanuki, what he did could hardly be called cooking. It only made her grin at him.

Doumeki tended to ignore it. He didn't care if the woman thought he had a girlfriend. If anything, he wished more people shared that view. The attentions of his fellow students at university were unwelcomed. Not even a blunt refusal worked in the face of some of them.

He frowned, steps slowing slightly. It was annoying. Usually he could brush it off but not when he was cornered after lectures and the thought of the groceries he had to buy - Watanuki - were heavy in his mind.

Watanuki might have all the time in the world but he-

He'd stopped walking. Just like Watanuki used to-

Doumeki scowled and started moving again. He was going to be late. Watanuki wasn't inclined to spaz out any more (unfortunately) but he'd have some sarcastic comment ready.

Or worse give him one of those lazy sleepy smiles.

He didn't like how much Watanuki slept. It only reminded him of how much Watanuki had changed.

Doumeki moved his fingers, the ring on his index finger rubbing against the plastic of the bags. Watanuki's gift. The weight of it was more than the wood ring around his finger. Protection against evil.

Protection even against Watanuki.

Doumeki's lips thinned. He moved to the side, giving a passing cyclist more room. In some ways Watanuki hadn't changed. He still didn't realize what happened to him affected others.

He hadn't noticed how much it affected Doumeki.

Or perhaps he knew Doumeki wouldn't refuse him the comfort giving such a gift gave him.

Doumeki was still torn by the implications of that. Between the trust Watanuki had in him and the barbed responsibility that came with it.

_"...Even to you?"_

_A small smile. "If it's me, even more so."_

The plastic bags crinkled as his hands fisted. He hoped it never came to that. Despite what Watanuki said, Doumeki couldn't ever see himself shooting him.

Without confusion. His knuckles stood out, white ridges. For all the knowing aura around him, Watanuki was still oblivious to some things.

He was torn between just telling him or remaining silent. Just as he'd been torn for the last four years, struggling with the choice he had yet to make.

They were one and the same in the end.

Doumeki forced his fingers to loosen. He glanced up at the path ahead. There was a salary man hurrying home. An old woman carrying shopping bags, so hunched over she was nearly bent in two.

The light was already fading. The slanting shadows cut across the light gilding everything golden.

Watanuki would be annoyed but he'd make a late dinner all the same.

The thought of food was enough to make Doumeki pick up his steps. Since his birthday, Watanuki had been more accommodating, as if all 'his favourite things' extended beyond the day.

Doumeki knew enough by now not to take it out of context. To read anything else into it. But the hope was there all the same. Quiet and patient.

He was gaining on the old woman. Doumeki automatically stepped wide, giving her room as he passed.

She miss-stepped as he passed, her grip on the plastic bags loosening. One of them fell to the footpath with a dull thud, mandarins rolling like so many lopsided orange balls.

Doumeki automatically stopped, turning around to help pick up the spill.

It was only when he bent to pick up a mandarin that he realized his mistake.

~x~X~x~

And what a mistake XD

Next part up soon ;D

~x~X~x~


	3. Chapter Two

**REVIEW REPLIES :**

**James Birdsong:** Thanks James :D You don't mind that I call you James, do you?

**Catalina: **And I love you guys, too. You never fail to cheer me up.  
You're welcome. I'm glad you enjoyed it :) *amused* I do use a pen actually. Most things are written in long hand and then typed up. It catches more mistakes XD Grand? You really shouldn't encourage me XD Not with all the AUs I already have :D I'll just have to feed you, then XD  
My pleasure ;)

**bakayaro onna:** Thank you :)  
That must give you an interesting perspective. I started the manga first (quite a few years ago, now XD) and, of course, think it better (though I do love the anime, too :D). I hope you enjoy the glorious reading you have ahead of you. And all the fanfiction it opens up for you :)  
Thank you. I've been writing a bit longer than most of the writers here. I've never been taught grammar but I do my best. Spelling and punctuation tends to be a result of fanatic editing XD  
You don't have to wait any longer :D I'm honoured :) I hope you enjoy the rest.

**phommabouth:** Thanks! No worries - I'm not stopping until this one is finished ;D After The Price is finished, probably. I thought I'd give you something to read while I finish editing :).

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**The Price:**

**II**

Watanuki stared down at the basin. The water was clear, a dark surface that reflected the dark featureless sky.

The same eye, the same blood.

Before questions of whether it would work could fill his mind, Watanuki drew the small knife sharply over his index finger.

Sharp pain was a line across his skin but Watanuki ignored it. He watched as the blood welled up through the parted skin, beads that soon melded to form a dripping line.

Watanuki held his hand over the basin, allowing the blood to fall into the water. One drop. Two. A dozen more until the water changed, the darkness tinting with pale red.

The surface rippled. Even after Watanuki took his hand away.

Watanuki stared hard at the moving water. Teeth clenched together so hard he thought they might crumble. _Doumeki, where are you?_

As if in answer, a pale shape flashed in the rippling water. Round.

Watanuki watched unblinking. There was no moon tonight.

Round and hollow. A thin circle.

A ring.

_Where?_ Watanuki stared hard at the wavering image.

A creeping wariness, a cold sort of uncertainty was filling his gut. Why was it the ring he was seeing and not Doumeki?

The ring wavered and suddenly the image broke. No longer a circle but a thin pale ribbon.

Smoke.

But not the smoke from his pipe.

~x~X~x~

Moro and Maru struggled with the brazier, shuffling it into position on the grass.

Watanuki doesn't move. His muscles are wound tight and to move might send him on a course he cannot afford. He doesn't know what happened to Doumeki and he can't do anything until he does.

His hand is tight on the pipe, fingers bloodless. Not even the heat from the smouldering tobacco can impart them any warmth.

The girls finally settle the brazier. They add a few twigs and leaves then quickly retreat to the veranda.

Watanuki glances at Mokona who gives him a solemn, worried stare. And then he steps forward and empties the smouldering tobacco from his pipe into the brazier.

At first nothing happens. And then there is a hiss as the tobacco embers catch leaves and twigs. Suddenly smoke is pouring upward, a billowing sheet of dirty grey.

A sheet that is changing. Lengthening and stretching until the outline of a head and torso wavers above the brazier's wide mouth.

"Owner of the shop." The words are husky, underlined with a crackle like low flames. "It has been a long time."

"Enenra." He acknowledges the observation with a small nod. "I need to find something." Watanuki keeps his voice level, even as part of his mind snaps that Doumeki is not a _thing_.

"Something." The word is husked out. For a moment the wavering tendrils of smoke at the top of the enenra's head twist like short windblown hair and there is only the sound of soft crackling.

"The Hyakume." He's not willing to say Doumeki's name.

The pale outline flickers, the crackling growing louder. The head of smoke suddenly grows definition: a nose, a thin line for a mouth. And two round globes of swirling smoke that fix on Watanuki. "I will need something in exchange."

Watanuki meets the pale shifting orbs of smoke without hesitation. No matter the price, he's willing to pay it.

~x~X~x~

Several hours have passed and Watanuki is once again sitting on the veranda. The sake and glasses have be taken away (Moro and Maru moving quietly, carefully) but he can feel their absence keenly.

Just as he can feel Doumeki's absence.

There are only a few hours till dawn. Doumeki has been gone for so long that Watanuki can only sit still by _not_ thinking about where he might be.

Thin smoke drifts from the brazier on the lawn. The enenra has been gone for a long time. Longer than Watanuki thought it would take.

It makes the unease in his gut an iron ball of dread.

Finally the smoke in the brazier thickens, from a thin tendril to a wide sheet that takes on the enenra's familiar form. The swirling smoke orbs fix on Watanuki and the chill that has been with him all night deepens.

"The Hyakume is out of my reach." The enenra's voice is like a scrape of ash. "There is no fire near him. No one near fire who has seen him."

A dream. The possibility has hovered in his mind during the long wait. Doumeki can't enter dreams and Watanuki can't go anywhere he hasn't seen before. But-

There must be a way.

"I can not find the Hyakume." The crackles strengthen under the smoky voice. "But I have found where he was."

A pale light appears beyond the fence appears before Watanuki can ask.

Small at first. But the size of it becomes clear as it flies over the fence.

A heron. A heron shinning with an eerie blue light.

Aosaginohi.

Silently it glides to land gracefully on the lawn, wings spreading with a pale blue flare. It peers at Watanuki with one small dark calm eye and then lowers its head on a pale long neck to deposit something small onto the path cutting through the grass.

A familiar object.

A ring made from the wood of a peach tree.

~x~X~x~

**Enenra:** A smoke spirit.

**Hyakume:** Hundred-eyed creature. Good nickname in the spirit world for Doumeki. No, I'm never giving that up reference XD

**Aosaginohi:** a night heron with a body lit with blue light.

~x~X~x~

Doesn't look good does it? And it isn't. Doumeki's really in a fix this time.

And yes in the next part, you will see what's happened to Doumeki ;D


	4. Chapter Three

**REVIEW REPLIES:**

**MeLaNch0lydreams:** Oh, yes XD

**James:** Then James it shall be ;D Thanks! I hope you like this one as much ;D

**Catalina:** (Lovely name by the way ;D) *amused* A winning formula XD  
I hope you like where we're going ;D

**Alana-kittychan:** Not at all XD

* * *

So. You wanted to know what happened to Doumeki? XD

**The Price:**

**III**

Pain. Thousands of jagged cuts over his body. Nails that dig into his flesh and_ twist_.

His arms are stretched out, held up at unnatural angles. And he isn't standing. Something wraps around him, hundreds of lines of barbed wire that cut into his flesh.

Doumeki knows by the sickening light-headedness he's feeling, he couldn't stand under his own power.

He hasn't felt this bad since he gave Watanuki his blood.

_There had been so much blood. It covered the ground, coated the jagged glass and twisted metal. Watanuki had been so pale it was hard to believe there was any left him but it had soaked through Doumeki's clothes as he picked Watanuki up. Turned white to red as he carried him, ran with him -throat closing with fear and heart hammering with more than exertion- to the shop._

_So much blood._

_He'd thought Watanuki was going to die-_

"I know you're awake."

The voice is close. Doumeki slits his eyes open, vaguely surprised that he _can't_ open them any wider. Almost immediately they try to sink shut again.

A cold hand grabs his jaw and wrenches his head up. "How are you feeling?"

There's no concern in the voice. Like the careless hand, it conveys no warmth or compassion. Just distant curiosity.

The face in front of his is an indistinct blur. Doumeki fights the urge to let his eyes close and focuses on trying to get his eyes to work.

"I can see why you're the one." The voice continues. "Most would be unconscious by now. But you'd have to have stamina to survive the proximity." It's said with detachment. A simple observation that has no bearing, one way or another.

Doumeki finally gets his eyes to focus.

At first he doesn't know who she is but then what he saw and what stands before him now meld into a single being.

No longer bent over but standing straight and strong. The dark eyes remain, the grey stringy hair and the seams of wrinkles that map her face. Old yet strong. The grip on his jaw is strong enough that he couldn't break free even if he wasn't feeling so weak.

A grim smile curls her humourless lips as she sees the recognition in his eyes. "But stupid." Her dark eyes bore into his. "Incredibly stupid."

It rankles. All the more for being true. He should have noticed that something was wrong. As he stares at her now, even with the sickly light headedness that fills his head, Doumeki can sense that she isn't just the old woman she appears.

And with the past few years of study, the words that could describe what she is tumble through his mind.

None of them good.

But the pain he'd woken to had already told Doumeki that.

He can't wield a bow as he is but maybe he can still use the ring.

Pain shoots through his arm as he flexes his fingers but it isn't the tearing knives that stop Doumeki short. The movement has momentarily restored the feeling in his fingers.

The ring isn't on his finger.

Doumeki isn't sure whether the sickness that runs through him is because of the blood running down his arm or the knowledge that he's defenceless.

"It won't kill you. Just keep you occupied while I wait." The old woman's grip tightens on his jaw, shooting pain through to the bone. "You're no good to me dead."

Doumeki clenches his teeth, muscles straining past her vice-like fingers. "Wait?" Just getting the word out is an effort.

She suddenly releases him.

His head drops to his chest. And Doumeki finally sees what's holding him upright. Not barbed wire. Thorny vines. Vines that wrap around him and thorns that have imbedded deep into flesh.

He twitches involuntarily, a small jerk.

A thorn in his chest is pulled free at the movement. He watches as the vines twist and the bloody thorn is slowly pushed back through the hole into his shirt and deeper into flesh. A new gloss of blood slowly trickles back along the thorn and onto the vine.

The darkness of the vines isn't their colouration. It's his blood.

"The last owner of the shop refused me." Anger twists through the words. Her voices lowered into a dark hiss. "I could not pay the _price_."

Owner of the shop. Doumeki's breath stops in his throat. Watanuki.

"She had nothing that I could use to pay with." Her hand is suddenly on his shoulder. Twisting. And the vines are tight, the thorns digging deep into his chest and shoulder.

Doumeki grits his teeth, choking back a grunt, not willing to give her the satisfaction.

"But the new shop owner." Her grip tightens further, making Doumeki's body jerk. "Has a weakness."

Himawari. It's increasingly hard to stay conscious but the thought filters in through the pain. Watanuki would do anything for Himawari.

"Something that will be the price I need." Her grip slowly relaxed, letting the vines slide back, thorns no longer ripping skin, just piercing it. "When he finds that ring, he'll know what he's lost."

The ring.

Him. Doumeki's lost more blood that he cares to think about but suddenly it's blindingly clear. She means him.

Would Watanuki trade something for him?

He would. The idiot.

"I just have to wait until he's desperate enough. The true value of one's soul has to be realized." She's walking away, her voice fading. "She wouldn't grant my wish but he will."

Doumeki stares at the blood, his blood, slowly draining away.

His blood.

The blood he gave Watanuki.

He'd rather give it all than drag Watanuki into this.

He hasn't heard her draw close again but dull metal suddenly enters Doumeki's vision. Something cold and flat levers his head up once more, until they are face to face.

It's only then that the cold glittering eyes and the rusty knife connect. Cold realization stops the breath in his throat. He knows what she is.

Knows what she might want from Watanuki-

"He'll grant my wish." The old woman smiles in satisfaction at what she sees on his face. "Because I have you."

~x~X~x~


	5. Chapter Four

**The Price:**

**IV**

He can't leave the store.

(And never has he wanted to so much. Never has he had such a _need_ before)

But he isn't without options.

(The growth of his power has frightened him. Frightened him to the extent he had given the power to end him to Doumeki. For all his thick headedness, his empty pit of a stomach Doumeki is the one he trusts with his life.

Trusts to end his life.

A surety that now lies empty in his palm.

Never has he felt glad that the power within him has grown. It has stretched and filled out, a swelling restlessness that fills his skin to bursting some days leaving him no choice but to use it.

And now it seethes within him, fighting to be free.)

He has the power to grant wishes.

(Shopkeepers cannot grant their own wishes. Yuuko wouldn't have been surrounded by smoke and liquor if that was the case. Watanuki wouldn't have taken up the same habits if that was not the case.

But-)

He can act outside that. His power is not that alone.

(Everything is Hitsuzen.

His power has been growing for a reason. If he can't use it for this, then-)

He has allies.

(Everything is measured, everything has a price.

But it wasn't always that way. There was a time before he became the owner of the shop. And those he met before-)

Mokona is watching him solemnly. Ears drooping and eyes shut above a down turned mouth. Silent but worry seeps from the too-still posture, the hanging paws.

He's not like Doumeki. He has seen the other side of coincidence and there is no going back from that.

(But as Haruka said, it is his choice to believe that his actions are inevitable, that he has a way to change fate.

Or believe that hitsuzen encompasses his choice.)

And now he chooses to believe that fate or choice, he can do something.

Smoke rises from the pipe held in his hand. Steady and thickening.

He _will_ do something.

The smoke twists. Thickens and warps. Sharp edges emerge from the gentle curving lines.

Butterflies form from the rising smoke.

Not just one.

Many.

They lifted into the air, fragile wings fluttering. A soft thunder of velvet wings, dark and glittering with hidden colour, their tailed wings trailing sparks.

Hundreds of wings. A blazing trail that turns the smoke into a weak pale ribbon.

Watanuki watches them go, hand fisted around Doumeki's ring.

~x~X~x~

Butterflies.

Hundreds of them.

They suddenly burst across the vision of Doumeki's right eye.

His vision is going but Doumeki knows it isn't a hallucination.

He recognises the familiar shapes. Has followed a line of them to a shop that no one else can see.

Watanuki.

Doumeki's fingers curl at the thought, shooting pain through his arms as his muscles pull at the vines embedded in his flesh. More blood trickles down their slick lengths.

His breath escapes his mouth in a silent rush. The pain is another just layer on what he has been suffering. And simply the name has pushed away the haze filling his mind.

He doesn't know how much time has passed. But it's been long enough to worry Watanuki.

Doumeki hasn't seen that many butterflies before. Half a dozen at the most.

_His powers increased quite a lot in the space of that one year._

The realization of what that meant swims hazily into his mind. Watanuki hadn't just been hiding things from Himawari.

Watanuki had been always hiding his true potential.

Hundreds of butterflies.

Even with his sluggish thoughts, Doumeki knows what that means.

Watanuki has stopped hiding the extent of his power. Stopped using only a little.

Her words tumble through his mind like jagged pieces of glass falling from a second story window. _The true value of one's soul has to be realized._

He knows Watanuki. Knows how he sacrifices himself to help others. How he protects Himawari from the danger in the shop.

Knows now how Watanuki has protected _him_.

And he knows Watanuki will do everything he can to get him back.

No matter the price.

The pain sharpens and Doumeki forces himself to be still. Struggling will not help him. He needs to preserve his strength. To clear his mind and _think._

There must be some way to get free before Watanuki trades part of himself away.

A part he might not survive losing.

~x~X~x~

Yes. But will you find it in time, Doumeki?


	6. Chapter Five

**REPLIES:**

**James:** ch 4) Glad to hear it. It doesn't necessarily follow that what I enjoy, other people do too :)  
ch 5) Thanks :D

**Alana-kittychan:** No. Not really. But things will get better.

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**The Price**

**V**

Butterflies return through the morning. With information and some tailed by beings who come to deliver their offerings face to face.

There is very little and the price for it is small. But the absence of news tells Watanuki more than the word he receives.

People don't just disappear. _Doumeki_ doesn't just disappear. Not in the walk between the produce seller's stall and the shop.

Not when he's expecting to be fed when he arrives.

There is very little that can stop Doumeki. And few who can hold him against his will.

Watanuki turns the ring over and over between his fingers, trying to think where the finger to wear it could be.

Doumeki is a rare creature. Watanuki's lips twitch faintly, having forgotten how to smile. Not as rare as him but still of interest, of worth.

(Doumeki's worth goes beyond all that. Beyond annoyance and errand boy.

Beyond friend.)

The silence can only mean one thing. That someone or something has taken him.

(Because he will not even consider that Doumeki is dead)

The ring turns in his fingers, slowly flipping. Watanuki is aware of Mokona sitting beside him, watching him, watching the ring. But Watanuki's eyes are only for the ring, the arrow carved on the pale band.

The ring itself is valuable. But it was left.

Watanuki watches the ring move between his fingers.

The ring was left for him.

~x~X~x~

The invitation comes with the breaking of dawn.

If it can be called an invitation. It's more of a demand.

Watanuki reads over the sparse words. He's read them several times but he reads them again to be sure.

A request for an audience.

A customer.

Watanuki's eyes slide to the small drawing that accompanies the note. Old trees in a small glade. Now that he has seen it, he can go there.

The letter demands that he go rather than the sender come to the shop to see him.

Even if that had been all, he would have been wary. But there is not just the letter and the drawing.

There's a button. A simple shirt button that is familiar because he's probably reattached it at some point. And the clear plastic is marred. Marred with bright colour.

He knows the smell of it. The thick tang. And it makes his stomach clench even as anger bubbles in his brain.

Blood.

His blood.

Doumeki's.

The anger is at Doumeki as much as whoever has taken him. That Doumeki knew so much and Watanuki had given him the ring to keep him _safe_ and now Doumeki is bleeding somewhere-

And he's so _angry_.

Because Doumeki, Doumeki of _all_ people should know better. Know about the danger.

The paper is crinkling. His hand as white and strained as the sheet.

Watanuki chokes back the urge to strangle something (preferably Doumeki when he gets back) and lets out a long slow breath.

His eyes fall on the picture once more and he commits the scene to memory. He can go there now.

In a dream.

"Will you go?" Mokona stares up at him. And the question is not so much as what choice he will make but if he is aware of what going will _mean_.

"I'll go." Watanuki stands. Letter, picture and button in one hand. Ring tightly clasped in the other.

Because Hitsuzen or choice, there is only one thing he can possibly do.

Someone has taken Doumeki. And there is a price to be paid for that.

~x~X~x~

Oh yeah :D

The next chapter will be up soon ;D

~x~X~x~


	7. Chapter Six

**REVIEWS:**

**Phomma-chan:** Yes, I saw it a few months ago. I was in Japan to pick up my copy when it was released XD *nod* It was excellent! Very well handled :D If you're talking about the resolution of the 'case', yes it was surprising. The very end, though, was not.

That would depend on what sort of relationship you would see between them. There is no arguing that the bond between Watanuki and Yuuko is the main focus of xXxholic. But if you're asking if I believe WatanukixYuuko is more canon than DoumekixWatanuki (or WatanukixDoumeki XD), my answer is no. (In the manga there's significantly more innuendo for 104 XD) There is no doubt that Watanuki loves Yuuko - you don't give up that much for someone you don't love. But I don't see it as romantic love. Yuuko has brought so much change into Watanuki's life, helped him to see so many good things (including Doumeki XD), to discover who he is and to realize his strengths. And Yuuko has become his mentor, the closest thing to family he has. With Watanuki being who he is, it's not surprising he'd chose to wait so that he could see Yuuko again and grant her wish. Romantic love doesn't have to exist to explain his actions. But of course, this is all just my opinion XD

**Alana-kittychan:** Indeed XD

**James: :D** Groovy XD I haven't been told that before. Thank you very much :D

* * *

AN: Whee! And back to Doumeki. Though he isn't having much fun at the moment...

**The Price**

**VI**

He doesn't know how long it's been. Hours, days. It doesn't seem to matter.

Doumeki lost the fight to hold his head up long ago and now it lolls forward, his jaw punctured uncomfortably by the thorns.

It gives him a good view of the blood dripping away along the vines.

He hasn't thought of anything.

Salt.

He doesn't have any. And sweat and tears didn't work.

Water.

There's none he can see. Not even spitting had any effect except for drying his mouth further.

Sutras.

The whispered words had barely escaped his lips before the vines had tightened, stealing his breath with pain. And when he continued, it seemed to be a move of irritation rather than defence.

Trying it silently didn't work, either. The words tended to slip and fray apart, disappearing from his mind even as he grimly grasped at them and tried to pull them back.

Nothing he's tried has worked.

He's stuck here waiting for Watanuki.

Doumeki doesn't know if he's more angry at Watanuki or himself.

~x~X~x~

There are times when she comes back. To gloat or simply stare.

He must have passed out at some point because he wakes to find her holding his head up, fingers digging into his jaw as she stares into his face.

Doumeki tries to pull away, to jerk out of her grip. But her fingers only tighten, points of pain along his jaw. Even as the vines tighten their grip, thorns digging deeper for more blood.

The proximity makes his stomach roil. Aversion and nausea uniting in a sickening wave.

If keeping still wasn't such a good idea, he'd be tempted to throw up on her.

Except that his stomach is empty.

It occurs to him that he hasn't had dinner. And he doesn't know how long ago that was.

Watanuki is going to have something more to say than about his missing groceries. It would be amusing if the situation wasn't so desperate.

The old woman's mouth curves. "He knows."

Doumeki drags his eyes up to her face. There is satisfaction in her eyes, a dark glitter as she watches his face.

She lifts his head higher, baring his throat. The strength in her thin bony fingers makes his attempts to resist look weak.

He _is_ weak.

"But maybe he needs more encouragement." One of her fingers strokes through the blood along his neck. She lowers his head again, letting their eyes lock.

Maybe she wants a reaction.

Doumeki just stares back. Going through the Watanuki crash course of the idiotic and weird means he knows how to annoy people by just doing nothing.

And it works with his captor if her narrowing eyes and tightening grip are any indication.

She suddenly lets go of his jaw.

Doumeki can't help the small breathless grunt that escapes his lips. But he has bigger problems than the thorns starting to dig into his throat and jaw.

She has a grip on the vines. He can feel it in the widening points of pain that are opening in his chest and arms.

"You might be worth more alive." It's a low hiss. "But it doesn't matter to me how long that lasts after I've traded you."

The pain is literally blinding. Even the vines white out of his vision.

Onibaba.

Demon hag.

Doumeki tries to breathe around the pain. Fitting name.

~x~X~x~

Don't piss off deranged supernatural beings, my dears ^^;;

Yes it was the Onibaba all along. I'm surprised no one guessed but there are an appalling number of supernatural hags in Japanese folklore. Now that you know, you could of course look her up. But *smiling evilly* while it will get you some answers, it won't get you all XDDD

For that you'll have to join me for the next chapter XD

~x~X~x~


	8. Chapter Seven

**REVIEWS:**

**James:** :D It's one of the better ones - but I like a little darkness mixed in XD Thanks! :D

**Alana-kitty-chan:** Doumeki's tough. He can take it. But I wouldn't have put him through it, unless I had to. The Plot is all powerful.

**Phomma:** And here you go ;D Thanks! I try to look at their relationship in new ways.

* * *

**The Price:**

**VII**

He changes. Slips from the comfortable kimono (and coat) he has worn all night and into something more suitable.

Loose trousers. Knee-length tunic. A robe that whispers 'Yuuko' as it settles around his shoulders. A matching corded sash to wrap around his hips, the knotted ends resting against his thigh.

Formal and elegant.

Uncompromising black and white.

Something more suited to the owner of the store than Watanuki Kimihiro.

The ring is tucked safely into his robe.

Finally he picks up the waiting pipe and inhales deeply, letting the thick smoke fill his lungs.

With one hand he sets it down and lies back on the couch.

The picture of the glade fixed firmly in his mind.

~x~X~x~

Watanuki opens his eyes to see branches against an overcast sky. Familiar branches.

He slowly sits up, taking in the old grass and the spindly trees that are shadows of the image he had memorized. But there is no mistake. This is the glade from the picture.

He stands and waits, the gentle breeze flapping the robe against his legs. It won't be long.

The seconds tick by. And then minutes. The breeze rustles through the leaves overhead, dislodging one or two and sending them on an awkward fall to the wretched grass below.

Watanuki doesn't move. Even though the urge to do so is nearly overpowering.

Finally someone appears from between the trees. Not tall but not short. Slow but not without confidence.

He watches as she draws close, face impassive. Even when he sees the matted hair, the bright staring eyes nested in more than a lifetime of wrinkles.

"Owner of the Shop." The title slips from her mouth in satisfaction.

"Most customers come to the shop." Its calm, almost bored, and is nothing like the tangled knots in his gut.

Her eyes flicker. "The shop is not always convenient for your customers."

Himawari.

No, if she knew about Himawari Doumeki wouldn't be missing. Himawari was the easier target. Watanuki had made sure that Doumeki, Doumeki who entered the shop so fearlessly, stubbornly to the shop to eat-

(But they both knew that wasn't the reason. That _wasn't the reason_).

-and drink sake, was able to protect himself.

Should have been able to protect himself.

Watanuki battled down rage and guilt, trying to keep it from his face. He couldn't feel that now. He had to think and think clearly.

_not always convenient_

There's something in that and Watanuki's eyes narrow slightly.

She walks closer, stopping only a few feet away.

Too close but Watanuki doesn't step back. He won't give ground, won't show any weakness.

Can't afford to now. Not with what's at stake.

"It's taken you longer than I thought it would." The movement of her lips is not a smile. "Almost too long."

He doesn't want to think what that means for Doumeki. "I came as soon as I knew you had business with me."

Again that twitching expression. "Calm, aren't you? But I wonder how long that would last if we weren't here." One of her hands flicks out, thin fingers with wrinkled sagging skin but muscle knotted over bone.

Watanuki can't help but follow them. To the trees shifting uneasily around them. Is Doumeki beyond them? The urge to run and see quivers through his body but Watanuki stays still. He forces his eyes back to the old woman. "You have a wish."

A light of satisfaction fills her eyes. A gleam of victory. "I've had a wish for a long time." Her eyes flick down to her hands. "A long time."

The wind scrapes two branches together, an eerie groan. She's doing it on purpose. Stretching out the moment. Watanuki resists the urge to choke the wish out of her.

Her mouth suddenly splits as if she can read his impatience. "Your predecessor would not grant it." Dark eyes fix on him with a knowing look, confident calculation. "But I think you will." Old teeth peer through her lips. "I can pay the price now."

Watanuki doesn't change expression. "Your wish."

"My daughter." It's like throwing down a gauntlet.

Daughter.

A violent old woman (because force would be needed to keep Doumeki so long).

A wish Yuuko would not grant.

It becomes clear. Crystal clear. And the internal balance he has developed, the weight of wishes to price, tips and tips. "No thing lives forever."

"But they can exist long after they are dead." A wrinkled hand shoots out, stopping just short of his chest. "You know that better than anyone, _Owner of the Store_."

Watanuki ignores her hand as if it doesn't exist. The accusing tone of her words. "The price for that is high."

And tipping further in his mind.

Her eyes fix on his. "A life for a life." They're staring and alarmingly sharp. "One soul for another. Your companion for my daughter."

It tips and tips and tips. Undeniable.

"It's not enough." The words slip between his lips with finality. "You cannot pay the price."

Her hand claws. As if she wants to rip at his chest. "Not enough?" It's a hiss. "Are you saying his life is less than hers?"

The anger snaps in his chest like broken glass. "No." If anything, Doumeki's life was worth more.

"Then why refuse?" All certainty is done, the victory ashes. Rage is surging through her, a wild demanding anger.

Watanuki allows a smile to cross his face.

If there is one of Yuuko's mannerisms that he has learnt well it is this. To use a smile to channel all the emotion into a weapon.

Anger, fear and pity- it all fuses together and comes out-

Cold and unswayable. "You already owe a price for what you have taken."

~x~X~x~

And this is why you don't fuck with the owner of the store :D

~x~X~x~


	9. Chapter Eight

**REVIEWS: **

**Catalina:** So you should be! :D I hope you enjoy this chapter ;D

**Alana-kitty chan:** Exactly. So she starts out owing and then has nothing as a price. Don't worry, watanuki will take care of him.

**James Birdsong:** :) Thanks. I was debating whether to cut that but it is such a powerful word. Thank you. Ahahaha. Possibly XD I see I'll have to work harder.

**LadyLuria:** Ahahahaha. In this story at least. That's makes it okay then ;D Certainly. I hope you enjoy the rest ;D

**Phomma:** XDDD Thanks, I certainly will ;D

* * *

**The Price**

**VIII**

It takes him a moment to realize he's awake.

Twisted lines fill his vision, dark and only slightly darker than what they wrap around. He vaguely wonders what it is.

Wonders where his body is because he can't feel it at the moment. He lifts his head, the only thing he can feel and it's heavy and-

A wave of whiteness slams through Doumeki's brain. A silent roar like all his strength is sliding back down his spine and leaving a dizzy nausea that is worse than light-headedness. If he was standing, his legs would have buckled.

He knows where his body is now. It's attached to his neck. Riddled with the sting of cuts and a dull ache that would have him gritting his teeth if it wasn't dulled by the heavy coldness which is dragging at him. His arms, spread wide and high, are riddled with numbness. Only his feet, strangely, are unaffected.

He moves them experimentally in his shoes, trying to ignore the wet sticky feel of them. It sends a stab of pain through him, small flares that join together, as the muscles in his legs shift.

It makes the nausea worse. If he had anything in his stomach, it would be emptying right now. As it is he has to swallow hard to stop himself from gagging.

But mentally it gives him pause.

The light-headedness is pushed back as he focuses on the nagging sensation that this is important. Laboriously he thinks it through. He hasn't had an empty stomach for years. Not since Watanuki-

Watanuki.

Watanuki has taken over the store. Doumeki buys his groceries. Groceries he's lost-

The Onibaba.

Doumeki knows what he's staring at now. Vines. The darkness underneath is his shirt and trousers.

Were. They don't look much like them anymore. Torn and bloodstained.

Too much blood.

More than the last time.

He hasn't managed to get free. Nothing he's thought of has worked. And now he couldn't walk anywhere if he wanted to.

Doumeki twitches his numb fingers. He could probably manage a crawl.

He'll crawl if he has to.

Doumeki stares at the vines wrapping his body, ignoring the pain and automatically evening out his breathing to fight the blood loss that threatens to shut down his brain.

He needs to get free before Watanuki comes.

The blood suggests it's been a day. Maybe longer than that-

Doumeki locks that thought away and ignores it. Before he starts uselessly trying to break himself free with brute force-

There's a small noise.

Usually her talking is the first thing he hears.

Doumeki slowly lifts his head, making sure his face shows nothing of the strain it is, the way whatever blood left in his head feels like it's falling out of his neck. Looking bored.

It annoyed Watanuki, so it should work with her-

Doumeki's eyes widen.

It isn't the Onibaba that stands in front of him.

Watanuki stands there, mismatched eyes unreadable. There's a cut on his left cheek, a thin line that leaks down the side of his face and off the edge of his jaw.

It was hard to believe that he's actually there. Doumeki shuts his eyes and opens them again, aware of the nauseous twist of his stomach. A hallucination maybe.

But Watanuki's still there.

Really there. There's too much pain for it not to be real.

And Doumeki wouldn't have dreamed the cut. If he was dreaming, Watanuki would have been smiling-

"Watanuki." It doesn't come out right. Cracked and barely a husk of a voice. Deep and broken.

Watanuki's expression finally changes. He reaches into his robe and withdraws something, opening his hand for Doumeki to see.

A ring. _His_ ring.

Watanuki glares at him. "When I gave this to you, I didn't expect you to lose it in a week."

Doumeki lets his eyes shut in relief. Because there's no doubt.

This is _his_ Watanuki.

~x~X~x~

Blood is a thin line down his cheek but Watanuki ignores it. Ignores what he's done - feel the guilt later - and makes his way through the trees.

Old branches tug and rip at him but it only makes him move faster. The Onibaba's words are loud in his head even as she is now silent.

_Almost too late._

The trees suddenly give way to another clearing. But there's nothing natural about it. The ground is bare, devoid of the wretched grass. Tthere aren't even weeds.

At the centre is a dead tree, Doumeki a splash of dark colour against its bleached trunk.

His arms are held up against the dead tree. His entire body. Because it's clear Doumeki can't stand on his own. Thorny vines wrap around him in a living binding, their lengths the same colour as Doumeki's ruined clothes.

Dark red.

Blood is flowing free, rivers of life draining away.

Watanuki can't stop himself moving forward.

He doesn't want to.

Doumeki knows he's there. He's moved slightly and the vines tighten, wrapping their blood-slicked loops further around Doumeki's body.

Doumeki slowly lifts his head. The slowness gives away the effort it is. And despite his bored expression, Watanuki can see the influence of pain in the thinness of his mouth; the way his eyes are smaller than usual, the lids sagging over tiny gold disks.

They widen suddenly. Only surprise can strand those tiny eyes like that.

Doumeki didn't expect him.

It makes him angry. Of course he'd come. Didn't the idiot know that? Watanuki focuses his efforts on keeping his face expressionless. If he doesn't, he might give into the urge to punch him.

"Watanuki." It's barely croak. Doumeki's voice rasped to a thread.

Suddenly the anger is blazing. At the Onibaba who did this. At Doumeki for being such an idiot and getting hurt-

He reaches for the ring, kept safe in his clothes, and pulls it out. "When I gave this to you, I didn't expect you to lose it in a week."

Doumeki just stares at it. And then his eyes fall shut, a look of relief making his face suddenly vulnerable, the pain and shakiness apparent.

The anger vanishes. Doumeki's half dead and here he is blaming him. Watanuki's eyes focus on the vines.

Jubokko.

His eyes narrow as he sees what they've done. Another day and the vines would have followed thorns and bored right into Doumeki's flesh.

If Doumeki had his ring this would never have happened.

Watanuki reaches out and presses Doumeki's ring to one of the vines.

And as simply as that, they wither. Blood darkened cords shift and thorns pull free of flesh, their dying lengths covered in a fresh gloss of blood.

Doumeki makes a noise that Watanuki's never heard before.

But he doesn't have time to decipher it. The Jubokko is dying and as the vines lose their strength, they're no longer holding Doumeki up.

Doumeki falls forward. A dead weight like his soul's been yanked out.

(Again)

Watanuki grits his teeth as he struggles not to let Doumeki's dead weight mash him into the ground. Trying to ignore the blood too bright on his hands and the cold chill smear Doumeki's shoulder has left on his face.

Doumeki's trying to get his feet under him.

He's not dead yet.

And never has the thought relieved him so much.

As much as he'd like to let Doumeki find the strength to carry his own weight, they don't have time. So Watanuki bullies the archer into a position that allows Doumeki to support some of his weight and Watanuki to drag him when he finally passes out.

Watanuki grasps Doumeki's hand where it hangs from his shoulder. He shoves the ring on Doumeki's finger, trying to ignore how easily it slides onto the blood-slicked digit. "Don't lose it this time, idiot."

Doumeki doesn't say anything. Just curls his hand in a fist to stop the ring from sliding off.

For some reason it makes Watanuki feel like crying.

But he tightens his grip on Doumeki, one arm wrapped around his waist and the other clamped around the wrist of the arm slung over his shoulders.

Doumeki's shirt isn't white anymore. Hundreds of small punctures and rips have cut it into a sheet of rips and tears, small flaps of bloodstained cloth. His trousers are little better, torn and tattered, bloody skin showing through the tears.

The blood is soaking into his side, staining his clothes, but Watanuki tightens his grip anyway. He needs to get Doumeki back to the shop.

"You're heavy." Because _he_ hasn't grown at all and Doumeki has and Watanuki wants to say something that will make him feel more normal and not shattered and _angry_.

Doumeki just looks at him, a sideways slide of eyes. Too spent to even reply.

Idiot.

Watanuki takes a deep breath.

He's brought things back from dreams before but nothing big. Not Doumeki.

But his power has grown stronger. Maybe strong enough to do this.

Hitsuzen.

Watanuki closes his eyes and pictures the shop.

~x~X~x~

**Jubokko:** a vampiric tree essentially. Said to suck the blood of people, usually associated with battlegrounds. Let's just say that the Onibaba kept it well fed.

And yes, you will see more of that confrontation with the Onibaba. I wouldn't cut that out now would I? XD


	10. Chapter Nine

**REVIEWS:**

**Phomma:** Thanks! I am, I am XD

* * *

**THE PRICE**

**IX**

He wakes to filmy shadows. Butterflies. Familiar gauzy curtains.

His head is heavy but he rolls it to the side.

Watanuki is sitting in a chair next to the bed. Sewing.

His eyes lift and an expression of relief flickers across his face before it smooths into grave lines. Watanuki lifts the needle and cloth slightly from his lap. "Your shirt is ruined."

As if that explains everything.

Doumeki lies there for a while, watching Watanuki as he starts sewing again. Putting the pieces together.

There wasn't any pain. The light-headedness and nausea are gone, replaced with a heavy weariness that tries to push him back into sleep.

Doumeki resists. "The price?"

Watanuki stills. "It's already been paid."

He stares hard, trying to see if there is any change, any injury. But not all Watanuki's prices are physical.

Watanuki catches his eye. "Not by me."

Himawari or Kohane are the only other people to come to mind. "Who?" The question is more urgent. Doumeki can tell Watanuki doesn't want to tell him.

Watanuki stares down at the needle, expression suddenly distant. "Taking you involved a price."

It takes a moment. "The Onibaba." But he doubts it would be a willing price.

Watanuki is silent.

Doumeki waits. Even when Watanuki insisted they were rivals, he hadn't kept things from him.

"A price for a wish can only be something that a person possesses. An object. Even part of a person. Memories. Time. Even their soul." Watanuki's eyes are on the cloth on his lap. "If that price is something stolen from another, then a person is already owing a price. And more must be given." Bicoloured eyes fix on him with an unreadable expression. "The Onibaba couldn't pay the price."

Doumeki thought about that for a moment, turning over all the aspects in his mind. "I'm hungry."

Watanuki gives him a look. And promptly sets aside the sewing and stands. "I don't have much food left," another look, "but I can put something together."

"Dashimaki tamago."

Watanuki's eyes narrow. "Invalids don't get to decide breakfast."

But dashimaki tamago would probably show up anyway. Doumeki watches as Watanuki slips out of the room.

Not before a small black creature squeezed inside.

"Hey." Mokona lifts a paw after bounding onto Watanuki's abandoned chair.

"Hey." Doumeki returns the greeting, one hand lifting from the bed. It's wrapped in bandages.

Mokona studies him carefully, face grave. "Watanuki was worried, very worried."

"Is that so?" Doumeki glances at the closed door.

Mokona nods and leans closer, voice quieting. "He hasn't slept for days-"

Doumeki listens with one eye on the door as Mokona fills him in on everything he'd missed.

~x~X~x~

Watanuki searches the kitchen. Eggs. (Two but that would have to be enough). Butter, shoyu. Kombu and kezurikatsuo to make dashi. Mirin, Watanuki scowls as he sees all the bottles, is no problem. But there's no sugar.

Tamago without sugar will have to do. Doumeki will likely complain but he can't do anything about it. Watanuki wasn't going to risk Kohane for groceries. Not after what's happened.

It will be a long time until he'll be willing to let _Doumeki_ venture out of the shop.

Watanuki's eyes darken as they fall on the knife sheafed in its block.

x

It was clasped in the Onibaba's hand. A red specked bend of metal that was corroded with more than rust. Her fingers like old bone as they clutched the fraying hilt. "You have what I need." It was a vicious hiss.

The knife did not frighten him. Watanuki met her eyes. Seeing the desperation that had warped into madness with grief and an unfettered rage that sought to bury her guilt.

A small part of him pitied her, even with the weight of lives she carried. It was possible with what he was now that his flesh would give her what she sought. But- "They are not for you."

It was fast.

Watanuki barely managed to avoid it. Red drops scattered out into the air even as their wake burned across his cheek.

Blood. His.

Doumeki's.

The Onibaba let out a startled cry as she suddenly slammed into the ground. Her matted hair fell down in stringy locks around her face but her eyes glittered up at him, the rage turning to hate as she realized the knife had fallen from her hand.

The sky darkened, threads and tears of black ripping slowly through the pale grey. The trees groaned, not merely branches but their protesting trunks as the breeze suddenly howled into a gale. It didn't even sound like wind. It sounded like some angry beast that was only noise because it was held back.

(Because Doumeki was out there somewhere.)

Watanuki slowly bent and picked up the knife.

It was an effort. The dirty metal was much like its wielder. Eager to bite, to lay open flesh. Black poured off it in hungry bitter waves.

An extension of the Onibaba's will.

Just as the dream was now his.

The howl lowered with a protesting yowl, ripping off leaves and branches before settling into an uneasy gale. The dark rips stopped spreading but they marked sky like uneasy banners.

The Onibaba's eyes rolled up to the sky, dark curves on white fields. They bored in him. "Dream stealer!" It was said with surprise and loathing. "You can't hold me forever!"

Watanuki knelt down next to her. "You have a debt outstanding." His voice was soft.

A splinter of fear cracked through the rage. But it was soon covered with derision. "The last Owner of the Shop was never been able to take it."

Watanuki's fingers closed carefully on the knife. "I am not my predecessor."

He had learnt from Haruka as well.

x

The knife now sat in the store room, one of the many things that was harmful and dangerous. He had taken it. But that hadn't been enough to pay the price the Onibaba owed.

_You can't hold me forever._

Not forever. But a very long time.

And without a knife, without passage to the world and more victims, she would be left with the rage, the guilt she could no longer sink beneath death.

The only person she could harm would be herself.

Watanuki closed the fridge and set the ingredients on the bench. He could work around the sugar. Doumeki would just have to put up with the difference in taste. They were going to have make do until he could make other arrangements.

Doumeki wouldn't be going anywhere for a while.

He adjusted his glasses, before reaching for the knife. Without hesitation.

News of what had happened would spread. And with it, a silent warning.

Doumeki was not to be touched.

~x~X~x~

**dashimaki tamago** - rolled egg omelet  
**shoyu** - type of soy sauce, a mixture of soya beans and wheat (as opposed to tamari which is just soya beans)  
**dashi** - a simple broth/stock  
**kombu** - edible kelp  
**kezurikatsuo** - shavings of katsuobushi (dried bonito flakes)  
**mirin** - type of rice wine

...how did this end up with a glossary?

~x~X~x~


	11. Epilogue

**THE PRICE:**

**EPILOGUE**

He hadn't managed to finish breakfast. The plate had started slipping from his bandaged hands, his eyelids lowering. Watanuki taking it from his weakening grip had been the last thing Doumeki had seen before his eyes had shut.

It was a weight on the bed that woke him now. The bedclothes were partly pulled back, a shadowy figure sitting on the side of the bed. There was a faint click as glasses were set on the bedside table.

Watanuki turned, drawing his legs up onto the bed and pulling the covers back up. "It's my bed." It was testy and - was he imagining it? - a bit defensive.

Doumeki was aware of that. He wasn't going to move, though.

Watanuki let out a disgusted growl and settled himself noisily on the mattress. Though he took care not to bump him, Doumeki noticed.

Doumeki wouldn't have minded if he had.

"As soon as you're better you can stay in the guest room."

It was a wonder he wasn't there now.

But Mokona's words had delivered several surprises. The long vigil on the verandah. The far flung search for information in a bid to find him.

A picture had started forming. A desperate yet determined use of resources. Doumeki had known that Watanuki wouldn't give up. It wasn't in Watanuki's nature to give up on anyone, even if he disliked them.

_Watanuki kneeling, arms around Kohane. Being struck and refusing to strike back_.

But Watanuki's actions went beyond that.

Tired as he was, Doumeki knew what Mokona had left out. With as much blood as he had lost, he wouldn't be alive now without more to replace it. And Watanuki was the only person who could have given it to him.

Mokona hadn't denied it when asked outright. Mokona had been silent then solemnly said the payment Watanuki had taken from the Onibaba had been adequate.

Taken.

It suggested action that Watanuki - whose irritable and prickly manner concealed a generous and caring heart - had never taken before.

Watanuki had taken the unprecedented steps. Had used all his power at hand. Had even acted against the forgiving instincts of his own heart.

And all for him.

Doumeki watched Watanuki settle. The first flickers of hope daring to surface.

Watanuki's met his, catching him watching.

There was a surge of movement, the bed shifting beneath him. Watanuki was suddenly leaning over him, eyes boring into Doumeki in a fiercesome glare he could feel even in the dark. "If you disappear like that again, you'll be in more pain than you are now." It was a low hiss.

Doumeki blinked up at him.

Threat delivered, Watanuki thudded back onto the mattress, the bounce that moved Doumeki like a following wave of anger. "Go to sleep."

Worried? Apparently so. More than he'd imagined.

He slowly turned his head on the pillow. Watanuki was a dark shadow, his hair a messy halo against the paler pillow. His breathing had slowed into a smooth steady rhythym. After days of watching over him, he'd finally fallen asleep.

Doumeki carefully reached out with a bandaged hand. Slowly. Cautiously. Ignoring the dull pain that ran up his arm.

Material. The warmth of Watanuki's body though clothes and bandages. The slight rise and fall of his breathing.

Whole. Alive.

Doumeki's eyes fell shut. He was asleep soon after.

~x~X~x~

Watanuki's eyes opened.

There was a weight draped across his stomach, dragging to the left. It took him a moment to remember where he was. What had happened.

Watanuki rolled his head to seek the dark warmth beside him.

Doumeki. His arm stretched across the bed. It was his bandaged hand resting on Watanuki's stomach.

He looked different asleep. Vulnerable.

Watanuki stared up into the darkness above the bed. It had been close. Doumeki had been close to death by the time they arrived back at the shop.

He'd almost lost him.

There was a price for getting too close to someone. To wanting when it was your fate to serve the desires of others.

Watanuki laid his hand over Doumeki's. Lightly covering the bandages with the added protection of his fingers.

There was a price. But it was a price he was prepared to pay.

~x~X~x~

Finis.

I hope you enjoyed this little adventure. For those of you who want more, well if you look hard in a few weeks, you'd be likely to find it XD But in the meantime, I have a plane to catch :D

As for the rest of you. You might want to re-read through Supernatural Entanglements.


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